Millay, Millay

The Colony began in 1973 on the estate of the poet Edna St. Vincent Millay, nearly 25 years after her death. The barn that Millay and her husband built was converted into artists’ studios. Forty years later, I wrote in one of them.

Studio Barn at the Millay Colony.

If I felt like a change of scene I could write at this table at Steepletop:

Time spent alone at a writer’s colony can fill your head with all sorts of strange and interesting things. I only hope that all some of the strange and interesting things that encompass Millay will show themselves in the work I did there …

WE were very tired, we were very merry­
We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry.
It was bare and bright, and smelled like a stable­
But we looked into a fire, we leaned across a table,
We lay on a hill-top underneath the moon;
And the whistles kept blowing, and the dawn came soon.

We were very tired, we were very merry­
We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry;
And you ate an apple, and I ate a pear,
From a dozen of each we had bought somewhere;
And the sky went wan, and the wind came cold,
And the sun rose dripping, a bucketful of gold.

We were very tired, we were very merry,
We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry.
We hailed, “Good morrow, mother!” to a shawl-covered head,
And bought a morning paper, which neither of us read;
And she wept, “God bless you!” for the apples and pears,
And we gave her all our money but our subway fares.

A bit about me …

I'm Randon Billings Noble, an essayist and book reviewer, who is also the mother of now three-and-a-half year old twins. I don't post here as much as I used to, but you can read my published writing and hear my writing news by clicking the link immediately below (which will take you to my writing website, randonbillingsnoble.com). Thanks!

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